


Truth is like blood underneath your fingernails

by mynameisnotthepoint



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Closeted Character, Discussion of sexual acts, Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27234388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameisnotthepoint/pseuds/mynameisnotthepoint
Summary: Set somewhere around the last half of season 2, Isak accompanies Jonas to a party. Too exhausted to pretend, but not yet ready to own up how he feels, he feels lost between all these people who seem to fit into this black and white world. A world where gay people don't have a voice.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	Truth is like blood underneath your fingernails

**Author's Note:**

> Being queer at a party where there are seemingly only straight people discussing very straight sex is taxing. Drawing on personal experiences, I tried to explore how Isak could have felt at these types parties.
> 
> The Title is from the song [Looking Too Closely](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qoWRs7lXtYE) by Fink.
> 
> Thank you so much to the lovely [Evakuality](https://archiveofourown.org/users/evakuality/pseuds/evakuality) for looking this over ❤

Jonas got them into this party. He always does. Isak has no game, according to Jonas. Which isn’t true. He knows how to talk to girls, get them to smile at him. The thing is, Isak doesn’t really want to have any game. Tonight, he didn’t have any energy to fake it. And that is how he ended up like this. Sitting at someone’s couch table on a fold-out chair or a couch, surrounded by 20 or so other people, playing some drinking game on an app which everyone has played at least 10 times. The girls at this party seem to really want to drink themselves to puking stage before ten o’clock, screeching about sex positions and the fact that there are only three guys sitting in their midst and what a shame that is. If they keep going at it, it will soon be two. There is always a bathroom or a garden to hide out in until Jonas is done making out with his fling of the week. 

Suddenly, there is a loud giggling sound from the girl who is holding the phone, her friend contorting her face into a grimace. 

“Would you do anal if your partner wanted?” she reads out.

“It’s honestly not that wild, did it once, didn’t feel much,” a girl with long blond hair says. 

“My boyfriend and I tried it, it hurt so much,” the girl sitting next to her says, her eyes hollow. Some of the girls agree but say they would still do it if their boyfriend asked. 

One of the other guys laughs: “Well, I’m a guy so I don’t have to worry about that. Might like to try it, if anyone here is up for it.”

Some girls giggle, others groan.

The other guy grins: “Well she could always stick a finger up there… Imagine.”

Around him, a few quickly exclaimed how disgusting that is. Some time ago, one of the girls was talking about her gay best friend and how he would always discuss with her which guys were hot, a slightly scandalized look on her face. One of the guys’ response was just “gaaay” and the other looked mildly disgusted. And now, there’s this.

It stings. It stings so much and Isak desperately tries to school his face into a neutral expression. He feels like he’s looking at all of this from the outside, as if his limbs aren’t his limbs. As if he’s separated from these people by an invisible wall and they’re in a realm he once inhabited, but can’t travel back to. 

He bites the inside of his cheek, presses his eyes closed for just a second, then straightens his back and politely asks the girls on his left to make some space, mumbling something about having to go to the toilet. Because someone decided that the music wasn’t deafening enough and set the volume even higher, the girl doesn’t understand him and he has to get uncomfortably close to tell her, again, that he wants to get up and leave. With some difficulty - he has been drinking through all of this - he manoeuvres over the row of black-clad legs.

Freed from the gaggle of drunk people and the horrid blue light from the way too expensive speakers and pumping base, he makes a beeline for the balcony. There, he sits down and takes out his lighter. It’s been a long time since he smoked; Jonas was going more clean as he needed his money to go out with his potential girlfriends, leaving Isak high and dry since he doesn’t have the slightest idea how to get weed himself. 

He flicks the flame on, watching it hover in the slight breeze coming from the water. It’s not too far, this flat is a really upscale one. Close to their school, expensive furniture, expensive appliances. Makes him think of the ratty furniture they have at home, stained by shakily held wine glasses, pizza sauce, and finger paints that have long dried up. Reminds him of the damp mattress in Eskild’s basement which he has slept on a few times now. 

Eskild. Isak wonders what he feels at these kinds of parties. Does he feel as left out? Would he have said something when that girl talked about having a “gay best friend”? Maybe he would have. But Eskild wouldn’t even be at this party. Unlike Isak, who seems to always run after his straight best friend, finally no longer pining over him, with no connections made on his own. Eskild probably has this whole group of gay friends who can just be, doesn’t go to parties where people talk about anal sex as if it is something you unlock when fucking a girl. 

Sometimes, Isak is so scared to lose this sense of normality, this protection shield he has because people think he’s straight. Lately, though, the shield has become heavy to bear, pressing him down, making him lose more and more of himself in the process as he tries to hide it all, keep his feelings and movements and facial expressions and looks in check. 

Isak flicks his lighter on again. For a moment, he tries to imagine what it would be like if he had a boyfriend. Would he pull the guy on his lap like other guys did with their girlfriends? Or would he be the one sitting on his boyfriends’ lap. The thought of another human body so close, one he actually wants to hold and be held by, bask in its warmth, stare lovingly in this person’s eyes. 

A flick of pain pulls him back to the present. He touched the lighter where it’s still searing hot, even if the flame has been blown out. He sighs. No way he is ready for any of that, when he can’t even think of his potential boyfriend as a guy. A man. And still, his chest aches for this kind of connection. 

He doesn’t know how long he stays sitting there, staring at the stars, the rippling water of the Oslo fjord, and the dark trees swaying their branches in the breeze like they are also somewhat inebriated. He tunes out all the background noise, all the reminders of how wrong he is, how he doesn’t fit in here. 

Just as he has reached a perfect calm, maybe even a resolution to finally do something about this, tell someone about himself, the thumping bass and nonsensical lyrics of this years’ russ music flood back onto the balcony. 

From behind him, a familiar deep voice calls out: “Isak, my man! Come inside, dude, they’re playing spin the bottle.”

Jonas is standing in the sliding doors to the balcony, a girl flanking him on either side. Isak clenches his jaw, flaring his nostrils, happy for the slight darkness that hides his irritation from his best friend. 

“Nah, think I’ll go home. Headache. And I have this biology test coming up.”

“Aight man, take it easy. We’ll talk at school.”

Jonas shoots him a questioning look. Nevertheless, he gives him a resolute nod and walks off with the two girls at his elbows. 

Isak rubs at his forehead, sends one last look over the fjord, and quickly makes his way to the door, picking up his shoes and jacket along the way. Some drunk guy bumps into him, asking him if he’s leaving already, his voice breaking slightly. Isak mutely nods and pulls the door closed behind him. 

It is only quarter past ten. The night is young, or whatever other blazed nonsense Jonas would tell him. Isak is done. He runs his hands along the fancy houses he passes, the smooth stone gliding through his fingertips. It grounds him. 

The wrongness slowly lifts from his shoulders. Someday, it will leave and never come back. Until then, he will always have the bathrooms, the gardens, and the balconies to escape to.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a sad one. Have you ever had similar experiences? Feel free to leave me a comment or a kudo ❤


End file.
